


Hodnes Beja

by Sorken



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Comfort/Angst, Death, Desire, F/F, FanFiction.Net, Guilt, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Love, POV Lesbian Character, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorken/pseuds/Sorken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediate follow-up to Season 2 finale. Clarke leaves camp Jaha and what happens to her afterwards. Multiple POV (without clarification as to whose it is, but I'm sure you'll guess ;) <br/>All the Trigedasleng comes from http://the100.wikia.com/wiki/Trigedasleng_(language)</p>
<p>Preview:<br/>There is nothing she can do but keep on walking, dry leaves crushing under her feet. Her limbs keep screaming at her to stop, but the command just won’t come. She knows that if she stops to rest, her emotions will catch up. But as long as she continues moving forward, she will be fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kom Skaikru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke wanders off into the woods, unable to cope with the weight of what she has done.

CHAPTER 1 – Kom Skaikru

There is nothing she can do but keep on walking, dry leaves crushing under her feet. Her limbs keep screaming at her to stop, but the command just won’t come. She knows that if she stops to rest, her emotions will catch up. But as long as she continues moving forward, she will be fine.

She can’t keep moving forever, though. She has lost count of the time elapsed and the miles covered, but every muscle in her body aches with exhaustion. Walking towards her death, she tries to atone for all the death she has caused. But she can’t. Death follows her; it’s become her very shadow. No matter how numbing her pain is, Death does not leave her side. It crawls behind her, gashing at her feet. Unable to go on, she kneels down on the forest’s decomposing floor and allows Death to feast on her soul. _All those innocent people_. She doesn’t deserve life. She did it to save her own people. She doesn’t deserve the comfort of Death, either.

Giving in, she lets the dampness of the forest floor creep its way into the very marrow of her bone. She gazes at the tall, somber trees covering the sky, without really seeing. She hears the wind rustling the leaves, howling like the people she massacred. Death clings to her body like venomous, thick blood, unable to be washed off. But death is not alone.  
_May we meet again_. Those gelid, spineless words keep ringing in her ears, and she can’t escape them either. The numb, deaf pain of being a bringer of death keeps being stirred by yet another sort of pain, the stinging, screaming pain of Betrayal. If Death is her cold, silent shadow, Betrayal is the stunning, paralyzing cry ringing in her ears. Yet she did what needed to be done, and there is no undoing it. Now she has to live with that.  
_To live._  
  
She opens her eyes, struggles to her feet, and forces herself to make a fire. _I don’t deserve the comfort of death_. The sound of the crackling fire distracts her from screaming Betrayal. Of course she understands why Lexa did it. Her brain and her logic understand. But her guts feel as if they had been torn out of her body, gashed at with sharp, unforgiving white teeth, ripped apart. Spat out.  
_May we meet again_. She keeps hearing those words over and over, ever so heartless. She keeps seeing Lexa turn and ride away. And then the numbing weight of all the following death comes back to haunt her. She feels her cold grasp around her waist, her icy lips brushing her own. Death teases, but does not take her. She feels Betrayal sing her delirious tune to her ears, whisper poisonous words she can’t make out.

 Out in the waking world, something stirs in the bushes, staring with the eyes of a hunter looking for prey.  
_I did what I had to do._ She tells herself. _Why does it feel so horrid?_ She asks silent Death. But silent Death does not reply. _Why did she have to leave?_ She asks screaming Betrayal. Betrayal does not reply, but goes on screaming.

A singing arrow brushes her cheek, almost bringing her back into the waking world, the world of the living. It falls on a lone, silent wolf that lurked behind the thickets. It howls like Betrayal.  
Clarke doesn’t turn to face the person who shot the arrow, her savior. Or rather, the Fury who refuses to cut the string and let Death claim her.  
Clarke’s heart already knows who it is.

“We meet again.” The Commander of Grounders says.


	2. Kom Trigedakru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a Commander, Lexa takes decisions with her head and not with her heart. How does she deal?  
> Here is what she experiences after MountWeather when she lets her emotions out... and its consequences.

CHAPTER 2 – Kom Trigedakru

  
Lexa supervises the healing of the wounded as if in a hazy slumber. Her body moves, her lips utter commands, but she isn’t there. While her analytic mind tells herself reassuringly that she’s done the right thing, commands her to believe she truly did, her heart twists and churns. Leaders lead with their minds, not their hearts, she tells relentless Guilt. But Guilt is visceral and passionate, and does not answer to cold logic.  
“Commander?” Indra forces her back into the realm of the living, the needed.  
“Send a team to help in rebuilding Tondc”. She commands non-chalantly.  
“Maybe you should rest…” Indra ventures.

  
_If only I could._

  
Every time she does try to rest, Clarke’s face when they parted comes back to haunt her. Clarke taken captive by the Mountain Men. Clarke’s blood being drained from her body. Clarke’s soul being ripped and used and discarded. She sees her every time she wakes up to cold sweat running down her brow and a nearly rising sun, not strong enough to warm the morning dew or the crisp, chilly air.

She could not rest. I don’t deserve to rest. If only she could just give in to the sweet slumber of death. But her people needed her. I was born into this world to protect my people, she tells herself. She was not my people. Yet relentless Guilt won’t leave her alone, his unyielding grip crushing her heart, choking her very soul. I did what needed to be done. She tells Guilt. Guilt does not respond, but merely tightens his grip. She carries the deaths of enough Grounders to worry about the Sky People’s. Yet she does. What if she hadn’t yielded to the Mountain Men’s conditions?  
Regret creeps in, stealthy as a fox hunting for prey. And Regret is cunning and quick, you don’t notice it’s upon you until its claws seize you and make their way into your flesh. Its teeth rip your skin and leave you exposed. But the Commander cannot afford to be left exposed. So, when no one sees her, she licks and dresses her wounds for them not to show. And she’s good, so no one notices. But Guilt and Regret are eating her away from inside, like worms feeding on carrion. She is nothing but a hollow carcass, muttering orders like an olden times automaton.

“Indra.” The automaton calls, staring blankly into the void with unseeing eyes.  
“Yes, Commander”  
“I must leave now” Says the automaton, a queer glimmer in its eye. “I leave you in charge until I return. I’m sure you will manage”  
“But, Commander-“  
“I said, you are in charge until my return. I expect to find things proceeding as I have planned. You know what to do.”

Lexa calls her stallion, mounts it, and rides off into the woods.  
Finally free to be whoever she wants to be, she lets her emotions be. And she lets her unrelenting spirit guide her. Take me wherever you want to take me. She rides care-freely through the woods, letting her stallion pick up the pace of her beating heart.

  
It is those heart beats that take her into the depth of the forest in the black of night. How long she’ been riding she cannot tell. She hears something moving in the darkness. She dismounts and walks closer stealthily. She feels the smell of smoke before she sees the fire. And she hears the breathing beast before her eyes can make sense of what’s in front of her. Or rather, who’s in front of her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she shoots a spinning arrow right past a blonde mane, through a fire and into lone wolf. It howls, bleeds, and crumbles to the ground.

  
“We meet again” She tells the blonde waves in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Liked it? Not so much?  
> Please use the REVIEW button! :D


	3. Trimani geda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa has found Clarke. Clarke hasn't found herself. Here's what happens after they finally meet again, what their emotions are and what they choose to convey... and what they can't help but express.

CHAPTER 3 – Trimani geda

“Letting yourself be killed will not bring you redemption, Clarke.” Spoke an all too familiar voice. “May I?” Lexa motions to sit next to her. Clarke doesn’t move and utters no word. Lexa feeds the agonizing fire and remains silent, absent-mindedly staring into the dancing flame. Clarke turns to look at her. Her war paint is faded and mixed in with dry blood. Her clothes are filthy. Her scent is that of caged-in despair. Despair trapped inside her rib-cage, flowing through her veins, yet contained, unable to break loose.

Clarke hadn’t consciously pictured this moment, but if she had, she wouldn’t have imagined her feelings to be such as they were. She would have expected rage, or a ravenous need for retribution. Yet she feels nothing of the sort. Inexplicably, she feels that Death’s grip is not so icy anymore. Betrayal’s screams are not as relentless as they were. Lexa meets her gaze.

“Clarke…” She begins, her voice broken and her expression suddenly vulnerable.  
“I understand” Clarke hears herself interrupt, and goes back to staring into the fire. Lexa nods, her chin trembling almost imperceptively. She moves in a little closer to Clarke, their arms brushing against one another’s. She stares blankly into the darkness ahead of them. Almost in spite of herself, Clarke feels the melting warmth of Forgiveness slowly take over. Betrayal steps back, abashed. Lexa seems to pull herself together enough to utter one confident sentence.  
“We did what we had to do to save our people.” Clarke nods. She feels a tickling sensation in her throat, quietly untying the knot that had almost kept her from breathing.

But she cannot muster the strength to talk. Not yet. Instead, she regains awareness of her own aching body. A hungry body. Lexa notices and quietly stands up to get the dead wolf and proceeds to skin it and gut it. Clarke gets a strange, primitive pleasure in watching her do so.  
Once the meat is roasting, Clarke finally attempts a longer sentence.  
“Take me to Polis.” She says. Lexa stares warmly into the sizzling fire, and nods, her lips almost curving into a smile.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
When she had left her camp, she hadn’t been sure as to what exactly she expected to find. Yet, without her realizing, her spirit had guided her to the very last person she expected to see ever again. Only as she sits next to the blonde girl who has come from the Sky does her body notice how tense her muscles had been, energy coiled in every sinew. She doesn’t understand why, but seeing Clarke makes her mind numb, it blurs her thoughts. If she hadn’t been thinking clearly when she decided to ride through the woods, now there is no synapse taking place in her brain at all. It is as if the wolf she killed had taken over her brain, turned it into mere instinct and stealth. Yet her muscles relax a little once the Ski girl speaks. She understands. That is the only human thought running through her mind as she watches the fire burn. She understands.

It’s her primitive instincts that tell her that the girl sitting next to her hasn’t eaten in days. As she busies herself readying the meat to be eaten, the tension in her body diminishes more with the slow, meticulous movements. Being able to focus on a clear task at hand, her brain starts to awaken slowly. It’s as if her entire self had been in hibernation, and only now started to shake off the winter frost, which melts away and runs down her cheeks as her face leans close to the fire, which runs down her shoulders and arms and drips on the floor. Her hands are busy with knife and flesh, fingers warm with the blood of the recent kill. The repetitive movements of the long ago-learnt task soothe her.

She remembers she is not alone when she lifts up her gaze and meets a pair of sky-blue eyes, and becomes suddenly conscious of the way they look at her. Clarke’s gaze isn’t dead as it had seemed only moments ago. It isn’t just the ravenous gaze of the hungry predator. She realizes that Clarke isn’t looking at the dead wolf at all, but looking at her. She watches Clarke watch her work, and sees a spark in her eye that she can’t quite make out. Clarke looks into her eyes, then her arms, and her busy hands, her bloody fingers. She notices how her own spine tenses a little bit, reacting to the attention. And Clarke’s eyes continue to pierce her. Her hair, her jaw-line, her neck. Her collar and her chest and abdomen. All the way down to her kneeling legs. Lexa feels the sweat drip down her spine and, with her newly-awaken mind, decides to focus on the task at hand once more.

After they’ve eaten, she ventures to speak again. She’s afraid that Clarke’s gaze will freeze and become lifeless again, but she speaks anyway.  
“I’m sorry”  
“You don’t have to be” Clarke hears herself say.  
“I chose what was best for my people, I wasn’t lying when I told you that I had used my brain to decide, and not my heart.” Lexa continues. She somehow feels that unless she explains herself, she will not be able to move on.  
“I know”  
“If my heart had chosen, I would have stayed next to you and many of my soldiers would have died that day”  
Clarke nodded. “We both did what we had to do… What I don’t know is how to deal with that now that it’s over” Clarke says. Lexa has to know how to deal.  
“You tell yourself that you are the leader of your people and that the burden of your clan’s kills must lie on your shoulders” Lexa says. “That way, you let them live, you let them be happy and rejoice”  
“We carry the burden for them” Clarke says, trying to understand, allowing herself to think a little and to feel a little. Just enough. Lexa nods.  
“It is part of what it means to lead”

After that sentence, a leaden silence falls over them once again, broken only by the sound of the burning fire and the wind dancing on the tree branches. Lexa glances at Clarke before she goes on.  
“Why the Polis?” She asks. She remembers when she offered to take her, eons ago, before MountWeather. She had been hopeful back then; she had thought they had a chance at something more than an alliance, and she can’t help but feel the frost that had been covering her melt a little more, can’t help but feel a bewildering warmth right in the mouth of her stomach.

“You said you’d like to take me” Clarke states, simply. She feels the Grounder’s eyes on her profile, but dares not look back at her. Why do I want to go? She’s not so sure herself. Truth is, she has nowhere to go. From the corner of her eye, she imagines she can see Lexa’s lips curve into a smile of sorts. Lexa’s lips. Too quickly for her mind to stop it, the memory of the kiss they shared haunts Clarke’s memory. She softness and warmth of it, the coiled, contained passion that didn’t want to be unleashed but could be sensed anyway. It had been a restrained kiss, as if the Commander had been afraid of hurting her. It had been a confusing kiss, arousing emotions she hadn’t been ready to deal with. She feels her cheeks fire up as she remembers the feel of Lexa’s lips pressing against hers, Lexa’s hand in the back of her neck, pulling closer, asking for more. She glances back at the alert Commander, who looks back at her. Into her, her eyes staring right into the cloudling’s. She feels Lexa’s eyes as they see right through her, feels the Grounder’s penetrating stare read her very soul. She finds it hard to breathe, afraid of betraying her thoughts by filling her lungs with much needed air. But in spite of her fruitless attempts, the Grounder already knows what had been going on behind her eyes a second ago.

Her primitive spirit awakened once again, Lexa leans towards Clarke without hesitation. Biting her lower lip as her gaze travels from quivering eyes to parted lips, she pulls Clarke into a kiss. This time, there’s no restraining, no holding back. Agile, she deftly straddles the cloudling’s thighs. Pulling her closer with a commanding palm on her back and pulling up her chin, the earthling takes control. Clarke feels completely helpless as Lexa commands her body. Closer, deeper. Clarke feels the Commander’s hunger bite her lower lip, kiss her in a primeval, ravenous way she hadn’t been kissed before. Her heart pounds quickly in her heaving chest as Lexa’s fingers run through her hair, pulling and tugging and forcing her to look up. She opens her eyes and blurredly sees the outline of the dark trees against the starry sky. But she can’t focus on that for long, for soon she feels Lexa’s hungry lips kissing her below her jaw-line, nibbling at her neck, feels her heavy breathing by her ear. Clarke exhales the air she hadn’t known she had been holding in her lungs.  
Struggling to regain control of her own body, Lexa lets go of Clarke and sits up straight. She looks at Clarke, sees the fog in her eye and the abandon in her limbs.

“I- I’m sorry” She mutters as she quickly stands up. “Get some rest, you’ll need it if you want to start heading for Polis tomorrow morning”. She turns around and stares into the darkness. “I’ll stand watch.”  
Speechless, bewildered Clarke lies down by the fire, unable to ignore the command. The Grounder forces herself to keep looking into the forest, wondering if she has gone too far and unable to come up with an answer. The cool wind appeases her breathing and the night engulfs it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so comes the end of a new chapter! What have you thought about it?  
> Please REVIEW! :D


	4. Sonraun en wan op

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke struggles to deal with her responsibility for the MountWeather massacre and Lexa shares the way the Grounder's see life and death.

CHAPTER 4 – Sonraun en wan op

Clarke wakes up in the still hour before dawn. The dew clings to her hair and her clothes, the chilly, damp air filling her lungs as she draws breath and sighs heavily. The feels the cold, packed ground beneath her, its icy moisture making way through her flesh and penetrating her bones. Clarke remembers Death. Her eyes shut deep, she tries to shake off the agonizing stares at Level 5. Tries to shake off the grimaces of despair and desperation she sees in their blistering faces. An icy tear slips down her cheek.

A hand softly, almost imperceptively shaking her shoulder brings her back to the present.  
“Clarke.” The Grounder calls, a hint of agitation fluttering quickly through her wide, green eyes and resting upon her lower lip. _You were clenching your teeth and your body was shaking as if when crying… I thought you might be having a bad dream…_ Instead of this, she states softly “The sun will rise soon, we’d better get a move on.”  
Clarke nods, rubs off the cold sweat clinging to her brow, and stands up. They leave the long-extinguished fire just as the first signs of clarity appear in the slumbering forest. Still numb from death’s caresses and frost bite, Clarke walks on half-blindly, following the nimble, silent warrior as if in a reverie.

Lexa doesn’t turn, but can imagine all too well the thoughts racing through the Sky girl’s mind. She’s familiar with them. But she has long ago mastered the subtle art of navigating towards things in her control whenever her mind starts drifting towards the dark waters of the dead whose lives she has taken from the world. _The dead are gone, the living are hungry_ , she tells herself in those moments. But she knows Clarke is different. Clarke comes from a world where the harsh truths of the ground were left unspoken, left to be forgotten, where the ground was a utopic ideal of the natural world they had been forced to abandon. She can see it in the way Clarke quietly marvels at the simplest things… a bird spreading its wings before landing on a pine tree. Or the quivering sounds the forest makes as it wakes from the cold night slumber.

However, Lexa knows that the ground is more than that. Nature is beauty and wonder and life. But death is also Nature. The Grounders see it as it gathers around each wild berry they take, every crop they reap. They see it as life extinguishes in the eyes of every animal they hunt. They hear it in the boar’s agonizing lament, they smell it in the rotting bones left out for scavengers. They taste it in every meal. Death follows them as they go into battle, clings to their blood-spattered clothes. They hear it in every war drum, and in every gash and every wound they cause, Death feeds. For every soul they feed to death, they live. Every time they bring death about means that they live. It’s the stern, thick-skinned life-cycle on the ground. Some creatures die so that other creatures can live. And in order to live, you must give Death something else to feed on. Nature is harsh and ruthless and true. And also beauty and wonder. And balance. The Grounder knows.

“The Ground is Nature” She states simply trying to soothe the Sky girl’s mind as she goes on leading her stallion through the forest, Clarke following closely behind.  
“What do you mean?” Clarke asks.  
“Your Sky had no Nature” She tries to explain, stopping to face the Skaikru. “So you don’t know Nature” Clarke is listening. “It’s life and death that create the cycles of Nature, without them there would be no ground” She can see the furrowing of the Cloudling’s brow. _She is trying to understand._ “So do not fear or seek, do not repent or despise death” She finishes. A glimmer of understanding sparks in Clarke’s eye.  
“Death simply is, and so is life, and there is no judging them with our human souls.” Lexa says. “After all, we are but a minute part of nature, just one more species trying to survive as best we can, playing our part in the cycle.”

 _Death is, and so is life._ Clarke sees the words come ouf ot Lexa’s mouth, brushing her teeth and her lips as she utters them. She hears them beating in her eardrums like primitive earthly percussion.  
“Thanks, Lexa.” She mutters.  
Lexa nods, smiles softly and resumes the walk. She is thinking she has been able to help Clarke, even if only a little. She is briefly allowing herself to feel and to explore, even if just briskly, what it is she is feeling... This warmth pounding softly in her chest that helps soften the tension in her shoulders… _Is it relief?_ She is immerse in her own emotions when, suddenly, she feels a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist, a gentle warm pressure against her back. She freezes and her muscles quickly coil into an alert state. Dazed and confused, she feels Clarke’s chin rest on her collar, her warm breath on her neck, her nose barely brushing it. Clarke embraces her tightly and burrows her face in the Grounder’s neck and hair. It smells of the wild, of windy mornings and of nightly fires.

  
“Thank you,” She repeats. “Chof” She adds, remembering the word in the Grounder’s tongue.  
“Pro.” Lexa replies, turning her head slightly towards Clarke’s face and looking at her from the corner of her eye, resting her own arms over Clarke’s.   
They stand still, breathing in the forest breeze, hearing the forest whispers. They stand still, taking in each other’s presence, easing into it. They stand still. The woods, the dangers of the ground and the Polis can wait.    


 


	5. Gaf in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to Polis, Lexa teaches Clarke a thing or two about hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter that’s a bit longer than the others (except, maybe chapter 3), and a little more intense ;) Hope you guys like it!

CHAPTER 5 - Gaf in

As the sun climbs up and oversees the woods below, casting shadows short as the hiss of an arrow, Clarke suggests they stop to eat. As they silently nibble at the day-old meat, Lexa says: “You must learn how to hunt.” It rings like a command to Clarke’s ears, but she understands she is in dire need of it.  
“Do you have any rounds left?” Lexa asks. Clarke shakes her head. In fact, she had left camp in such haste and concerning herself so little with the near future that she hadn’t taken any at all.  
“Well, then, let’s fix that. I can’t have you left to starve in the woods if anything happens to me.” She stands up with a swift movement, ties her horse to a nearby tree trunk, and gestures for Clarke to follow.

“I didn’t really have much chance of hunting back in the camp…” Clarke mutters as a form of excuse for what she might do when asked to hunt as she tags along. “I just helped with the tracking, but I didn’t really have the chance to-“  
“Hush” Lexa whispers, a finger to her lips gesturing silence. Clarke sees her crouch subtly, shoulder blades tense, ear prickly, alert.  
“Lesson number one: No needless noise” She whispers. Then, realizing she might have been unnecessarily harsh, she adds “We can talk later.”  
They hear the rustle of leaves not far away.

“Now, when you walk, move slowly, don’t make needles movements.” She instructs as she moves forward, furtive as a shadow. Clarke sees her swift movements, trying to soak everything in. She sees the way the hunter moves forward, close to the grounds but barely touching it, sees her looking up at a specific branch of a specific prine tree. She sees her well-defined profile, her proud brow, her piercing eyes and her long lashes, which betray her hard looks...Her straight noise, which sniffs the air subtly. Her strong jaw, clenching tensely at the imminent kill. Her full lips, which also betray and elaborately hidden kindness of spirit.

Focus, Clarke tells herself. But she keeps on staring at the Commander, tracing her lean neck and collar with her yes.  
“Come, Clarke” The hushed yet authoritative voice pulls her from her reverie. Lexa points at a squirrel on a tall branch, several feet above them and ahead of them.  
“What am I looking at?” Clarke asks, chuckling at her own lack of expertise. Lexa smiles as well, eye bright with unuttered laughter. She puts her hand on Clarke’s back, pulling her down a little, and points again.  
“Right, um… a… squirrel?” Clarke says hesitatingly. “And you expect me to kill it from here?”  
Lexa nods, eyes still smiling, and hands her the bow.

“Hold it this way” She shows the Sky girl. Clarke grabs it and makes an awkward attempt at imitating the Grounder. Lexa smiles again, looking down as if to hide her amusement.  
“If you’re going to just stand there and mock me, you can hunt yourself, I’ll live off tree leaves or something.” Clarke complains, blushing at her inadequacy.  
Lexa chuckles quietly and stands behind her, her every move noiseless and stealthy. She grabs the Sky girl’s insecure hands and gently but firmly corrects the hold.  
“This way” She whispers in her ear. At this, a shiver runs through the Sky girl’s spine. Her head is but a confused tangle of signals going in every direction, telling her to get away, to turn and face the Grounder, to let go of the bow, to melt right there and then. As Lexa tenses the string by pulling softly from the arrow using Clarke’s fretting fingers, Clarke can’t help but shudder at the earthling’s poised, subtle breath in her ear, at the precise control she has over every muscle. She feels Lexa’s perfect balance between tension and ease as she tightens the bowstring. She can’t help but notice the warmth radiating from her strong, confident body.

Firmly but carefully, Lexa guides Clarke’s aim towards the squirrel.  
“Now, inhale… “ She draws the boy to the limit of its tension.  
“And exhale” The arrow darts forward and upwards, hissing. The squirrel tumbles and falls lifelessly.  
“Good job” Lexa congratulates, not ready to let go yet.  
“Ugh, yeah… you did most of the job anyway…” Clarke replies, suddenly feeling horribly self-conscious. Their hands are languidly holding the bow, the dead prey forgotten for the time being.

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Lexa let’s go of the bow and grabs the cloudling by her hips, jerking her closer. One arm tight around her waist, she lets her other hand wander upwards, slowly yet intensely enough to cause a heavy sigh escape the cloudling’s parted lips.  
Making an intent pressure, her hand travels across her tight abdomen, then her thorax, exacting the cloudling’s heavier breathing. Kneading along the way until her hand’s reached her pray’s collarbone, the Commander buries her face in the cloudling’s neck, planting soft kisses at first, then savoring the tender skin below the ear. She is eager to taste all of her, to explore her every corner, but her inner hunter knows that haste accomplishes little; a prey taste’s better when unable to see what’s coming.

In one deft movement, Lexa brings Clarke down, pinning her to the ground by sitting on top of her and, grabbing both of her wrists over her head, she leaves the bewildered cloudling little room for movement. She leans forward to kiss her craving lips and, just as she’s arching her back, silently pleading for that kiss, she pauses. With a playful smile on her lips and a smirk glistening in her eyes, she leans towards Clarke’s ear.  
“What is it?” She whispers, her tongue playing in her ear in the slightest of ways.

“Kiss me…” Clarke implores. Savoring the effect she has on the cloudling, Lexa slowly presser her lips against hers. Ever playfully, she bites and tastes and overwhelms Clarke. And just as Clarke looks like she can’t take it anymore, her foggy eyes smothered with longing, she moves on to her jaw line, then her neck, with slow, intense kisses that tear deep groans from the cloudling’s throat. As she does this, one hand still immobilizing Clarke’s hands, the other swiftly finds its way into her garments. Sliding it painfully slowly upwards, she feels Clarke’s back arch, well beyond her control. Lexa shifts so one of her legs rests between Clarke’s as her nimble fingers feel their way up. She presses her hips against Clarke’s pulsing thigh, grinding against it in spite of herself. The Grounder pushes her own thigh against the cloudling’s hips, causing her chest to heave visibly as she inevitably pushes forward with her hips. Smirking at her prey’s response, she slides her hand down, which crawls into her pants. Thrusting and touching, fluttering and pulsing, the causes the cloudling to shudder and quiver, to squirm her way into a state of pure and absolute bliss. Then, absolute stillness.

Exhausted and satisfied, the Commander of Grounders releases her grip on the cloudling’s hands, puts a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, then rests her weight on her elbows, and lets her still boy lie on top of the Sky girl’s. She plants a soft kiss on her lips. They remain like that for what seems like time eternal. Then, slowly, Lexa rolls over, brings worn-out Clarke close to her chest and, intertwined on the ground, they doze off.


	6. Tu keryon (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa ride off into the woods. Clarke's POV (Lexa's POV coming soon)

CHAPTER 6 –  Tu keryon (part 1)

The sun is leaking through the forest canopy as Clarke wakes up. It’s noon. She can feel the warm sunlight on her cheeks. Se breaths in the crisp midday air and nuzzles into the space between Lexa’s neck and hair, enjoying the wild scent of her skin and the tickling sensation buzzing in her own body. She lies on her shoulder, leans in and brushes Lexa’s lips softly with her own. She sees Lexa’s sleepy eyes flutter open and feels her body stretch relaxedly beneath her. She sees Lexa smile widely as her eyes set upon her, and realizes it’s the first time she’s seen her smile so openly, all of her barriers down, the hard mask set aside.

“You smile beautifully, you should do it more often” Clarke teases, brushing the Grounder’s cheek with her fingers. Lexa lowers her eyes and looks back up at Clarke, her long, deer lashes quivering. _Is that embarrassment?_

In this instant, nothing exists other than the two girls silently enjoying each other’s company, silently taking in the joy of each other’s presence. IN this instant, there is nothing else. No Grounders to lead, no people from the Ark needing help to survive. They are no one’s leaders right now, they are not responsible for anything other than each other. They are not Commanders, just two young girls being nothing but young girls, allowing themselves to be just that and behaving just like that.

Clarke energetically shuffles to her feet and lends Lexa a hand.  
“Come on, let’s go get that squirrel” She says lightheartedly.

Remembering what had distracted them from the squirrel in the first place, Lexa laughs and gets up. _Lexa laughs._

She grabs Clarke’s hand and pulls, causing distracted Clarke to fall on top of her again. Clarke enjoys the sound of Lexa’s newfound laughter for a brief moment before pulling her into a soft kiss, into which Lexa melts with no reserve. Clarke likes this softer, relaxed Lexa.

It’s the afternoon when they finally sit down by an improvised fire and eat the squirrel.

After they are done eating, Lexa suggests they speed things up.  
“At this rate, it will take us two moons to get to Polis” She says, slowly falling back into her responsible, sensible self.  
“I’m in no rush, are you?” Clarke comments lightly.  
“I have left Indra in charge” The Commander offers as a means of explanation.  
“I do not doubt her skills, but it is me who was born to lead my people, not her.”  
Clarke sees her demeanor soften a little as she says, “so hop on, we are riding for a while.”

Clarke tries to hide the nervousness creeping up her cheeks. She had done it once before, but the times had been much more critical, and right now she cannot remember how on Earth she had mustered the courage.

She stands up and gingerly grabs the horse’s saddle, then looks back at a clearly amused Lexa.  
“Go on, then” Lexa gestures for Clarke to straddle the stallion while she grabs it firmly by the noseband.

“Put your left foot on the stirrup and jump.”  
“What is he decides to gallop away?”  
Lexa laughs to herself before assuring Clarke that it will not. Gathering all the courage she can command, Clarke hops on Lexa’s warhorse…and doing so, the horse starts a quick trot. Clarke holds on to the horse’s neck for dear life, and she can’t for the life of her think of a worse way to embarrass herself in front of Lexa.

When she does open her eyes, gets to catch a glimpse of Lexa nimbly jumping on the horse and landing right behind stunned Clarke. She turns her head to see Lexa smirk proudly, almost boasting through her squinting eyes.  
“Never seen someone mount mid-gallop before?” She says, wrapping her right arm tightly around Clarke’s waist as her left one takes the reins.  
“Well, as you can imagine, there weren’t exactly a lot of horses running around in the Ark” Clarke retorts.

After a certain amount of joking, they fall silent, riding quietly thought the engulfing woods. Clarke rests softly against Lexa’s chest, and lets the whole experience invade her. She focuses on the somehow relaxing feel of the horse’s trot, gently rocking her back and forth. She becomes aware of the living creature she is straddling, aware of its warmth and its almost unsoiled animal instinct. She strokes its side and brushes her fingers through its mane, surprised at how alive yet non-human it is. She wonders what it would be like to be a horse, to have been born and to have live the entirety of your existence on Earth, heeding nothing but your own survival instinct. _That’s not so different to what I’ve been doing since I landed._

Everything that has happened since then keeps pushing to come to the surface, but Clarke doesn’t want to let it, not now. She focuses on the fresh scent of pinewood surrounding her, and delights in hearing the melody of the forest, encompassed with her own breathing and the rhythm of the horse’s trot and the rhythm of Lexa’s heart beating strongly behind her. Holding on to Lexa’s reassuring arm with one hand, she uses the other hand to stroke Lexa’s hair behind her, grabbing her neck and pulling her closer. She hears Lexa’s silent chuckle and feels her smooth lips plant a quick kiss below her ear.

Clarke leans back and allows the realization that she is connected with everything slowly take her over. She is one with the horse, one with the forest, one with the Grounder that has taken the reins. She is part of everything and everything is part of her. She is one with the wild, one with the Earth beneath her and above her and around her. _One with everything._


	7. Tu keryon (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa tells of the first time she rode a horse and explains a little about Grounder culture.

 

CHAPTER 6 –Tu keryon (part 2)

 

Lexa can’t but guess what Clarke must be experiencing. She remembers the feeling of utter freedom of the first time she rode her stallion. The feeling of complete connection with the animal, with nature. She wanders if that’s what Clarke’s going through, but does not want to interrupt the rapture that seems to be involving her, so she focuses no firmly guiding the horse and sharpens all of her senses to keep everything under control. _If I am alert, Clarke can enjoy herself and lay down her guard._

 

She wants Clarke to enjoy as much as she did on her first horse-riding experience.  
“It feels nice, doesn’t it?” She asks after a while.  
“Marvelous!” Clarke replies, still enraptured.  
“Your demeanor reminds me of the first time I rode”  
“What was it like?” Asks Clarke, visibly eager to hear anything related to Lexa’s unrevealed past. Lexa takes a moment to savor Clarke’s interest and then proceeds, the story flowing through her lips like the creek they are approaching.

 

“It was some time before my 7th summer… It is part of our tradition for warchiefs to gift their firstborns with a feral horse in the break of their 8th summer, since it is believed that in taming them, firstborns initiate their learning on how to command. The first lesson is to learn how to govern a wild horse” Lexa starts.

 

“So, I still had four entire seasons before I was gifged with my horse, but I was rather lacking in patience as a child”  
“You, impatient?” Clarke asks, amused. Lexa nods gravely, as if it was a great fault, and goes on.

 

“My father and I used to track wild horses, which he would then round up and leave for my mother to dispose of. She usually gave them for her warriors to break in and then use.”  
“So your mother was the Commander?” Clarke asks, intrigued. “I thought that your leadership was passed on by merit, rather than bloodline…”  
“It is. My mother had a warrior named Spektra as her second. When my mother died, Spektra became Commander of the Tree people, and she chose Anya as her second, who in turn, trained me when the time came for me to rule” Lexa explains. “But it is believed that when a Commander dies, her spirit moves on to her firstborn daughter. So it isn’t surprising that Commanders’ children are gifted with great leadership skills and prowess.” She states flatly.

 

Clarke nods, her grimace that of deep thought and a visible effort to understand.  
“I guess it’s not so different from what happened at the Ark…”

 

“So anyway, one night, I sneaked out of my family’s dwelling and crept away into the night. I followed the recent tracks my father and I had found that morning, and they led me to the herd of horses we had seen. I set my eyes on a young, yet strong, white horse, grazing a little far away from the herd. As carefully as I could manage with my then clumsy limbs, I went closer.”  
“Sounds like you were a fearless child!” Clarke exclaims, stroking the horse’s mane absent-mindedly.

 

“I remember standing right in front of that horse, unable to determine if it was going to attack or not. After some of the longest minutes of my young years, I reached out my hand and the horse shyly nuzzled it. Then, something in my spirit told me the horse was welcoming, so I walked up to its flank and, probably less deftly than I recall, I mounted it.” Lexa pauses, lost in recollection.

 

“No words can describe the feeling of sheer, absolute freedom I experienced back then” She smiles to herself. “How in that moment nothing mattered other than the horse and I” She finishes.  
“What happened when your parents realized you were missing?” Clarke asks, intrigued at how Grounders deal with child mischief.  
“I was punished with then lashes” Lexa explains, still bemused by the memory. “My mother knew that anything less would have been seen as a sign of weakness for her daughter” She adds, remembering the Sky people’s soft rules.  
“That’s outrageous!” Clarke exclaims. “What happened to the horse?”  
“You are riding it as we speak” Lexa replies, slowing down to a halt. She can see by the look on Clarke’s face that she has managed to impress the blonde.

 

“Why are we stopping?” Clarke wonders.  
“I do not know if it is your case, but I am in dire need of a bath” Lexa offers as an explanation as she walks into the stream they have reached, undressing as she gets closer. She carelessly removes her boots and pants. Then, as she slowly dips into the water, she strips of her upper body armor and garments in a couple of quick movements, turning her head only enough to see a perplexed Clarke from the corner of her eye.

 

“Perhaps if would be good for you to join me” She says, enjoying the impression she is causing the blonde, and then dives into the creek’s cool, clear waters.


	8. Chapter 7 - Stelt jus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa are enjoying themselves when it starts to rain. Acid rain. Clarke deals with her haunting feelings regarding MountWeather.

CHAPTER 7 –  Stelt jus

Clarke stands there, mesmerized by Lexa’s utter lack of inhibition, flushing at the mere idea of the cool waters caressing Lexa’s naked body. A couple of full minutes pass before she realizes she has been staring at the Grounder, her eyes exploring every inch of visible skin. Lexa’s tanned, Earth-bitten skin looks lustrous when water drips from it, forming its own rivers and streams as Lexa submerges and then comes out again. Where she is standing, the water reaches her waist. As if she had forgotten about Clarke standing, staring, gaping, she sits on a nearby rock and proceeds to agilely unbraid her hair, giving Clarke her profile. _Her perfect profile._

Clarke’s eager eyes find themselves fixed on the Grounder’s wet lips, observing how they tense with concentration. Clarke isn’t even trying to control them anymore as they travel down her neck, following a single droplet. Her collarbone. Her chest protruding lightly, just enough. Just enough for Clarke’s tongue to inadvertently find itself licking her lips.

She is pulled back to conscious thoughts when Lexa’s eyes fix on hers, locking her gaze with her piercing, soul-searching, green eyes. She smirks and beckons.

Clarke gingerly removes her clothes and, as self-consciously as ever, feeling Lexa’s warm stare, she gets into the water. She dives quickly to hide her embarrassment. _You are not a child anymore_ , she tells herself harshly. And so, collecting herself, she moves closer to where Lexa’s sitting, stands behind her and gently pulls her head backwards. She cups some water in her hands and drips it over Lexa’s hair. When she finds Lexa’s eyes meeting hers, she leans in closer and kisses her softly.

“Allow me” She mutters before she starts unbraiding Lexa’s hair. It feels soft and silky between her fingers. She massages Lexa’s scalp as she untangles it, and Lexa lets her work, her back straight and slightly tense, revealing coiled emotions she is not expressing.

Just as she is finishing with the last strand of chestnut hair, Lexa swiftly turns around and pushes Clarke a little, so both of them find themselves briefly under water. Determined not to lose a fight, she turns, stands and pushes a surprised Lexa towards the riverbank. She lies on top of her, legs intertwined, warm, wet skin against warm, wet skin. She peeks into Lexa’s eyes and, for a brief moment, she gets the feeling that the can see her soul. The Sky girl smiles tenderly and pulls Lexa into a kiss. She can feel the Grounder’s limbs relax beneath her, give in. She takes pleasure in the contact with her soft, warm skin, and gently, almost imperceptively, she traces the lines of Lexa’s strong, lean muscles and bones with the tip of her fingers. Her jawbone, the tendons in her neck, her clavicle, her sternum, the abdominal muscles, tearing hushes, strained, low groans as she goes.  Clarke smiles with her eyes as she starts retracing her steps, this time with her mouth.

She is deeply focused on the task at hand, completely oblivious to the Earth around her, when she feels Lexa flinch.   
“What is it?” She whispers. She sits up, looking for an answer in Lexa’s body language. Completely tense and alert, Lexa sniffs the air, looking around, an alarmed expression plastered to her face.  
“Rain is coming” She states flatly. “We must get shelter” she says, standing up and collecting their clothes, and puts on some of them hastily.   
“Quick!” She commands. Clarke imitates the experienced Grounder and finds herself being pulled and sat on the horse.  Before she has a moment to realize what is happening, Lexa is guiding her horse briskly through the woods.  
“Acid rain?” She manages to ask. She hears Lexa grunt in affirmation.

She has never been through acid rain, so she is not sure as to what to expect or fear, but she can sense the predicament they are in in Lexa’s movements.   
The bleeding faces of the people at MountWeather come to her mind. What if acid rain is to them what radiation was to those people? Death slithers in her dark, endless robes, swallowing everything around her. She hears the people screams, sees the faceless children fall down, never to get up again. _I am a murderer. I don’t deserve life._ She hears Death’s mocking laughter echoing in her ears at unison with her thumping heartbeats. _I deserve agony._

They are about to reach a bunker Lexa was leading them to when the first drops start to fall. She feels them sting her hands like hypodermic needles. She feels them as they pierce her shoulders. Before giving time for Lexa to do anything, she swiftly jumps off the horse, facing the sky.   
“You idiot!” She hears Lexa curse. But her voice is distant, coming from another realm, outside Death’s immediate domains. Clarke rips off her shirt, ready to embrace the acid rain, to let it pierce an blister and burn her body. But before the tears of Death have the chance to stroke her clean body or her tormented, filthy soul, she feels a sharp, blunt pain in the back of her neck, and a piece of garment being through over her. Before she can welcome deadly rain, she finds the hard ground scratching her back, finds herself being dragged underground.

 

The first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is the dark, metallic ceiling of the bunker. She smells the stale air and hears the rain rattling outside mercilessly. She sits down slowly to avoid an upcoming dizziness. She sees a pair of green eyes staring at her, showing a mixture of concern and rage. Lexa is crouching on the floor near her, arms around her legs and looking vigilant.   
“You could have gotten yourself killed, Clarke” She states seriously. “Maybe I should leave and let you be done with it”  
It is only then that Clarke notices. Lexa’s shoulders and forearms show burn marks. She stands up quickly and moves over to examine her.  
“You’re hurt” She says.   
“It’s nothing, Clarke” Lexa replies.  Clarke pulls off Lexa’s shirt and studies her back. Lexa flinches only slightly, her shoulders square in spite of the visible pain. There are blisters and burns all over her back.   
“Like hell it’s nothing…” She murmurs. _I’ve got Lexa hurt._ “I’m sorry, Lexa…” She murmurs.   
“You got hurt to protect me…”  
“Only because you are a fool who lets her emotions take the best of her” Lexa answers bluntly. “But this is nothing, I’ve suffered worse” She adds, a little more softly, blinking softly. _She understands._ Clarke things. _She has been where I am_.

“Let’s see if there’s anything we can use to treat those burns…” Clarke says as she gets up and rummages through the storage room in the bunker. She emerges a couple of minutes later with a bowl of water, some pieces of cloth, gauze and a whitish ointment.   
“Sit still… this may sting” She warns. Lexa sits down cross-legged, shoulders square.

Patiently, Clarke cleans up the burns and dries them with the cloth. Lexa does not flinch this time, but her eyes betray the pain of a wounded animal.   
“What is that?” She asks as Clarke is ready to apply the ointment.   
“It’s called silver sulfadiazine… it’ll be good for you” She tries to sound reassuring, as the Grounder looks like she doesn’t trust this kind of medicine completely. She nods. Clarke applies the cream over the burns softly and then wraps up the gauze around Lexa’s torso and part of her arms.  Lexa looks down at her chest and mutters “I look like a man”.   
“If you are well enough to joke, I guess you’ll be fine” Clarke teases, easing the tension a little.  
“I’m really sorry” She strokes Lexa’s cheeks, cups her face and kisses her softly.

“Try and get some sleep” Lexa lies down as best she can considering her injuries and, after a few minutes, Clarke hears her breathing become even and soft. She then looks around the bunker for anything that can be useful for them. Some rounds and a radio. _Not bad._

Lexa wakes up abruptly in the middle of the night. Her back stings fiercely. She feels like ripping the bandages apart, but she knows better. Pain angers her, makes her feel weak. She can no longer hear the sound of the rattling rain. She climbs out of the bunker and stares into the night. She sharpens her eyesight, lets itself get used to the moonlight. Insects and animals all seem to be heading in the same direction, following the bitter wind. The air smells cold and stale and rough. _Smoke._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think about it? Any ideas as to what's going to happen? Keep reading!
> 
> Please comment! :D


	9. Chapter 8 - Gona keryon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa are getting closer to Polis, but there are still dangers between them and the city...

CHAPTER 8 – Gona keryon

“So, how did you end up being the almighty Heda, Commander of the Twelve Clans?” Clarke asks as they walk through the muddy ground. The sun is rising, and the woods are covered in the cool morning light. Everything is wet because of the rain from the day before, some brittle trees that could not endure the acid molten here and there. With the horse gone, probably led by its instinct back to Ton DC, they have no choice but to walk. The air smells of wet, packed earth and pungency, and a hint of eucalyptus. She looks up to see the blending of evergreen conifers and orange, yellow and brown, crisp autumn leaves.

“I was chosen” Lexa states succinctly. “My spirit is that of the previous Heda, and the one before her, and the one before her”  
Clarke nods. “And how do you realize? And how come no one’s ever doubted you?”

This time, it is Lexa who looks up, towards the foliage, then towards the ground, as if confirming the unspoken answer with the Earth. “Because, as a child, my demeanor was not quite that of a child… so, at 4, they took me to the Elders, the wisest people among Grounders. They played ancestral melodies and chanted, and I was made to choose.” She explains.

“And you chose the same as the previous Heda” Clarke asks, without it really being a question. Lexa nods slowly, gravely, glancing at Clarke.

“I was also asked to pick three among a bunch of wildflowers” She adds. “I chose the agave, the butterbur, and the alder blossom, which mean justice, tenacity and wisdom.” She goes on. “To test my strength of spirit, I was left alone in a clearing for three days. When I returned after the sun had set three times, they knew I was to be their Heda.” It looks like the Commander was feeling talkative today, for her standards. She casually picks a bunch of berries from a tree and offers Clarke some. “When I came of age, and after a big amount of training, I took over as Commander of the Coalition. How were you chosen?” She asks in turn.

“If only I knew…” Answers Clarke, munching a berry thoughtfully. “I guess I just found myself taking decisions that were convincing enough for most people to agree”  
“You are a born leader, then, Clarke” Lexa compliments, smiling lightly. They go on walking.

“So, as a rule, do you believe in reincarnation?” Clarke asks after a while.  
“What do you mean?” Lexa asks.  
“Do you believe other things can reincarnate, or just leaders?” Clarke rephrases. _Do you believe we were meant to be?_ Is what she is actually wondering. She flushes.  
“Well, tales are told of lovers whose spirits find one another, life after life…” Lexa starts, a wan smile flickering through her lips. “Some talk of lovers sharing the same body as one passes away, his or her spirit refusing to part with the other’s” _So Grounder folklore isn’t all about war and death…_  
“So… is Costia within you right now?” Clarke ventures softly, wondering if she has gone so far she will make the Grounder close up again. Lexa shakes her head, looking down, blinking several times, lashes quivering.  
“I would have had to be with her when she died for that to happen” She says. Then, she squares her shoulders, slides her some-time-ago-cast aside mask and puts on her warrior demeanor.  
“We should be paying closer attention to the ground.” She says. “I can hear something” Clarke has gone too far.

Clarke decides to focus on the forest surrounding her. A rustle of leaves, not far away. They stand still, back against back. Lexa draws her blade, swift and silent as ever. Clarke hears her own gun click as she loads it, removing the safety lock. They wait.

“Come out!” Clarke shouts impatiently. Pairs of eyes glistening in the distance. A cold drop of sweat running down her spine. Heart beats thudding in her ears. Lexa’s straight, reassuring back behind her.

They hear several pairs of paws running in the distance.  
“Wolves…” Lexa whispers. But Clarke’s idea of a wolf is not what comes speeding towards them. These beasts are larger than any wolf she has seen in her Earth wildlife textbooks, larger than the creature that had nearly killed her by the fire. Its paws the size of her very head, its canines larger than Lexa’s knife.

She fires her gun as soon as she can see them clearly. And before she realizes she can no longer feel Lexa behind her, she hears her war cry. She turns just in time to see Lexa charge at the wolves, dodging and turning and slashing and wounding. Killing. But they are too many. Agile in the face of Lexa’s fragile position, Clarke  shoots. No hesitation. No uncertainty in her hands.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The instant she hears the leaves crush under their feet she knows they are too many. She sees their eyes glinting in the darkness, awaiting, expectant. It is as if something pulsing in their veins, some animal instinct that can measure tension just as she measures the tightness of the bowstring was telling them when to attack. When their pulse tells them to, all at once, they come charging at them.

She hears Clarke firing behind her. _Don’t waste your rounds._ She draws her sword and waits for them to get closer. And closer. Once the first one is within range, breaking into her personal space grown bigger by the sword she carries, she starts her attack, slashing at the first wolf. She knows the drill. She knows how to lure them into her space, one by one, how to slaw and gash as they come. But they are too many. She hears them as three wolves jump at her back, but she dares not move farther away. _I must stay close to her._ She chops off the head of the wolf in front of her. She turns around. They are too close for her sword. She draws her knife instead, and stabs the one clinging to her arm. Two more come at her. They are too many. _I’m sorry, Clarke._

She hears five shots in her direction. The five wolves that were on her drop dead.  
“Lexa” She hears the cloudling call.  
“Are you all right?”  
 Two more shots. The alpha male killed, most of them wounded, the pack disperses into the woods. They will find another kill.  
“I’m ok” Lexa replies, panting. The tight, tender skin of her slowly healing back tingles.  
“I’m alive” She says. _I’m alive_. She feels her limbs go nimble, her legs fail below her. The exertion has been too much for her aching body. She has over-used it. She feels herself fall, but there is nothing she can do to stop herself. One moment she is looking past the trunks of the first line of trees in case another threat appears, the next she finds herself looking through the canopy and into the clear, blue sky.  
“Lexa!” She hears Clarke call, her voice distant and foggy. “ You are feverish…” She thinks she hears her mumble.  
She feels her head being placed on the cloudling’s lap, seeing her sky blue eyes instead of the real sky now. _Maybe the real sky lies within those eyes_.  
“Lexa!”  
“I’ll live, Clarke” She hears herself mutter, not sure if it’s loud enough for Clarke to hear.  
“You’ll be ok” She hears Clarke say, her warm, care-giving fingers brushing her forehead and cheeks. Her other hand making intent pressure on her arm.

The world closes in on her. She no longer sees the sky blue yes. Hardly feels the cloudling healer's fingers on her skin. Unable to fight for consciousness anymore, Lexa places her sutrst and her life in the Sky girl, gives in, and faints.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what did you think? I've made some changes regarding Grounder lore ^.^ (I've also done a little editting on chapter 6 part 2 so it would all match, hope I've done a good enough job!).
> 
> This is a draft of chapter 8, I may keep on polishing it a little, but this is the main idea. Please comment! :D


	10. Chapter 9 - Trimani trikova (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa wakes up. Clarke isn't there...   
> A chapter where Lexa's dwells on what happened to Costia.  
> A chapter where Clarke learns something.  
> And where Clarke does something.   
> Read on! ;)

CHAPTER 9 – Trimani trikova

The Grounder wakes up to a chilly evening light. The most persistent rays of sun still glint in the upper branches of the tallest trees. Beneath them, everything is darker. Fog comes out of her mouth as she lets out a painful sigh. She leans on her elbow, in a slow yet determined attempt to get up. The skin of her back sends piercing signals through her nerves every time she moves. She gets herself in a sitting position with effort. Only then, once she is sitting cross-legged on the cold, packed earth, does she notice the bandage on her arm. She makes a little pressure with her hand and the red stain in it gets broader. _Wolf bite_ , her experience dictates. She feels weak. And she would never admit it, but she feels coldly vulnerable. Like prey.

 _Where is Clarke?_  The picture of the girl with the sky blue eyes being attacked by those wolves sprints her into action. She stands up, grunting in pain, and wanders around as silently as possible, given her state. Her senses are clouded, so she doesn’t want to venture and call out for Clarke, as she cannot sense what creatures might be lurking in the shadows. Using only her good arm and trying to block the vision of Clarke in pain, she climbs an oak tree. Her vision is better there, and she feels like less of a prey. She draws out her knife anyway, and listens.

Nothing. _What if something happened to her?_ She squints into the shadows. _Nothing_. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to take it if Clarke vanishes. She can’t figure why, but whenever the blonde finds her way into her mind, she feels a certain warmth run over her body. She feels her chest swell with something she cannot quite pinpoint. Something similar to the thrill and the excitement of catching prey, similar to the quickening heartbeats of fear and anticipation prior to imminent battle. Every time the Sky girl approaches, she feels the quiver of electricity travel through her nerves, simmering with radiatin tension. Once the Sky girl is in her arms, her ribcage expad with the same kind of boastful pride she gets after winning a war. The very same pride earned from overpowering a difficult prey and feeding it off to her hungry clan. The pulsing tension of the straightened bowstring. The unlikely hear of the blade being sharpened. But as Lexa delves within more deeply, there lies a tenderness which cannot be ignored and cannot be commanded to fade. And a fierce, relentless devotion that would suit a lay warrior rather than a commander of hordes. Yet there it lies, plastered to the walls of her heart, gaining vigor with every thudding heartbeat’s blood flow.

She couldn’t take it if anything were to happen to her. She can’t go through losing someone so irredeemably close to her heart again. She couldn’t just close up and mask her every emotion this time.  She knows from experience that it would not suffice. She would need to ply herself into steel, lose any trace of lingering, weakening humanity.

Back then, Loss had caused her to cauterize her wounds with a fearless, ardent, scalding armor of hard, frozen insensitivity, impenetrable in its stoicism. She had choked her feelings into numb, dead silence herself.

The picture of Costia springs to her mind. Fierce, high-spirited, rash Costia. Skinned, gutted, beheaded Costia. _Not again_. Gelid Loss, so long kept at bay, lurks in the long shadows cast by the trees and threatens to attack, its icy grip nearly burning her aching heart. She can almost feel its slippery fingers sliding down her throat, blocking it, chocking her and making the oxygen smolder in her lungs. And along with icy Loss comes relentless Guilt, fingers prodding in every wound. _I could have saved her._ Guilt’s unappeasable fingers keep prodding, its long nails gashing and tearing at her skin, ripping her apart from her insides out, _as Costia must have been._

But Lexa cannot affort to let emotions overpower her. _Em pleni_. Enough. Her brain and her logics strain to get a grip. Her brain connections look for Clarke. Sky blue eyes. Strong, determined jaw. Kind, warm smile. _Breathe,_  she orders herself. She finds it easier to provide her dry lungs with air now. She inhales deeply, shunning Guilt and pushing away Loss. Clarke might need her, might be in trouble. She needs her to be strong.

With renewed vigor, she climbs down the tree and hops off to the ground, her torn, burnt skin forgotten in the wake of Clarke’s possible danger. Her expertly trained eyes search the ground for clues and has no trouble finding the Sky Princess’ hardly concealed trail. She follows the footsteps quietly. They lead to a slow-flowing creek. She finds Clarke kneeling down, collecting water.

“Clarke…” Lexa mutters, her voice breaking, an almost imperceptible quiver in her lower lip. The girl with the sky in her eye turns around and looks at the Grounder.

“I… I thought you might be in trouble” Lexa says, strength slacking, uncertainty in her eye. Instead of words, Clarke favors action. She decisively walks over to where Lexa is standing and softly wraps her arms around her. Lexa feels the icy grip on her heart soften, dripping cold, melted water over her entrails. She then embraces Clarke back, arms tight around her torso.

“I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you” Lexa whispers her confession, barely enough air passing through her teeth for it to be audible. “You matter too much” She can feel Clarke’s face tense into a smile.

“I’m not going anywhere” Clarke responds, reassuring. “And I don’t plan to die anytime soon” She cups Lexa’s cheek with infinite tenderness and pulls her into a deep kiss, into which Lexa leans, releasing the tension she hadn’t known had been straining her shoulders and the muscles at the back of her neck.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke asks Lexa to lie down and changes the bandages with painstaking thoroughness, rubbing off every bit of dead skin from her back and applying the healing ointment. She then cleans the dry blood off her arm and covers it with clean strips of fabric. She figures Lexa must be biting off the apin, but does not make mention of it. Better to let her suffer with dignity. She then make a quick, shy fire which Lexa mockingly calls feeble-tempered, instructs her to keep it while she goes hunting, and walks into the woods. The Commander _obeys._

Clarke is taking an unexpected liking to hunting. She enjoys the feeling of power it implies, how it means it is her who prevails over the enemy. She wouldn’t go as far as to say she takes pleasure in the kill, but somehow hunting awakens something animal within her. It somehow connects her with the beating pulse of nature, with the never-ending cycles of life and death, of the eyes of the wild, which do not judge. Nothing is right or wrong in nature. This idea appeases her.

It is not for nature to decide what should and should not be. For within nature, things simply are. In nature, the only possibilities are those that occur. It is not of nature to pass judgement. There is only what is and what is not. No implications about what is moral and what is not, what is ethical and what is not. The events in MountWeather, Clarke reflects, _happened._ What could be, was. Anything else is impossible now precisely because it was not, because it did not occur. Yes, Clarke finds peace in nature.

Still, it is part of the ways of nature to make it more difficult to hunt at night. But Lexa needs nourishment, Clarke reasons. Half blindedly, pure instinct, she fires three arrows at the sound of slight movement in the treetops. She has taken Lexa’s bow today. Surprisingly enough, she manages to hit something, which falls to the ground with a thud. Chest swelling with pride, she runs over towards the lifeless goshawk and takes it back to their makeshift camp.

Lexa’s lips curl into a smile as she sees her approach. She is lying on her side, probably the position that is less painful for her right now, facing the fire. Her eyes gleam, reflecting the dancing flames, the tanned skin of her face now turned a reddish tint, absorbing the heat of the nourishing fire. Clarke feels those gleaming eyes cast its stare upon her and, shoulders square, chin up, smirk playing on her lips, she walks in closer to the fire… hot, shameless pride swarming in her fast-flowing veins. She lays the animal by the fire and, bemused, lifts her chin and raises her eyebrows at Lexa’s staring eyes. She gazes in turn, from above, all confidence, as she moves in closer to Lexa.

Before she is given the chance to fathom what’s going on, the cloudling pulls from her arm, causing her to sit down, legs stretched on the ground, and sits across her lap. She brings shocked Lexa’s face closer by pulling from her chin, their eyes inches away from each other’s. She can feel Lexa’s accelerating breathing on her cheek, feel the scent of her skin. But he does not kiss her. Jut as Lexa’s leaning in to make their lips meet, she arrogantly pulls back, bites her lower lip and then goes for the Grounder’s neck. As her lips press and her teeth bite playfully, just painfully enough, in unrelenting hunger, her hands slip underneath Lexa’s shirt, hastily tearing apart the bandages she had so carefully wrapped around her before. Her hands hungrily grope their way up, relishing in the feel of Lexa’s toned, athletic body, taking pleasure in the way the Grounder’s abdomen contracts and the way her chest heaves in clear delight. Her needs unleashed, there is no stopping her as these hands find Lexa’s breasts, skin soft and prickly with anticipation.

It takes Clarke one breath to remove Lexa’s shirt, but he takes three or four to, leaning back, still sitting on her lap, take a long look at the girl in front of her. Her eyes devour her in a way that makes the Grounder’s long lashes flutter as she looks down, and then back up in a wild attempt to hold her stare with pride. Clarke then leans in and brushes her lips against Lexa’s abdomen, feeling the heat of her skin in her tongue. She then kisses, and licks and bites her way up to her heaving chest, tearing a low grunt from the Grounder’s mouth as her lips close in around her nipple, her fingers shamelessly playing with the other.

Lexa’s fingers, in turn, dig into the ground, presumably in a feeble attempt to repress the coarse moans escaping her parted lips. She pulls her head back, and the Sky girl takes advantage of her exposed jaw line to move back up, brushing her ever hotter skin with her lips. Lexa forces herself to face her and, eyes clouded by the intensity of it all and the bewilderment that seems to invade her, she pleads:  
“Kiss me…”

_(to be continued)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter, eh? It’s getting longer, so I’ve decided to split it in half. The 2nd half is coming soon!  
> Hoped you’ve enjoyed it!  
> So? Opinions? :D Please review!


	11. Chapter 9 - Trimani trikova (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events in part 1, Lexa describes the Polis for Clarke to imagine and they doze off. But something in the ground stirs Lexa from sleep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, everyone! I’ve been incredibly busy, what with university starting and friends coming over from far away and stuff. Here goes the 2nd part of chapter 9! I hope you enjoy, and keep on reading! I’ll try to post chapter 10 without much delay :P. As usual, let me know what you think! Reviews and comments welcome (and encouraged! :) )

“ Kiss me…”  
But Clarke isn’t feeling obliging just yet, so she smirks, her eyes glinting with delight at the reactions she is visibly stirring in the Grounder. Only after she has teased her to an extent bordering with the unbearable, lips brushing skin, tongue outlining lips, does she finally kiss her. And when she does it is passionate and intense and brimming with emotion. Her teeth bite and her tongue breaks in, no permission asked, and there is nothing Lexa can do but respond. To respond with an arching back, nails digging into the back of Clarke’s leather jacket, eyes closing because sight is unnecessary right now.

As they kiss, and Clarke’s hands explore every inch of Lexa’s torso, tracing every muscle, bone, protuberance and crease, she consciously relishes on the fact that she has never seen Lexa this exposed and this open. Being the recipient of such unabashed trust fills her with a heated pride. It is such heated, thoughtless price that pushes her go further.  
“Take me…” Lexa whispers, her voice coarse and rough with hunger. This time, Clarke obliges.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It is early morning when they finally feed on the long-forgotten bird. Humility had painfully simmered in as Clarke had needed Lexa’s instruction to chop up the goshawk and cook it in the fire.  
As she plucks up the feathers, she asks:  
“So, what is the Polis like, anyway?”

Relaxed, Lexa is leaning against a tree. Clarke can see her eyes move from place to place, as if she was seeing the Polis with her mind’s eye. She takes her time. When she finally replies, with her characteristic succinctness and lack of unnecessary flourishing, it is only to say:  
“There is nothing you can compare it to, Clarke”

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks as she breaks the goshawk’s bones for easier eating later. She spares a moment to ponder on how much things have changed since she landed, how used she has gotten to certain rhythms and rituals of nature.

“It covers many miles, and people are as abundant as trees in this forest” Lexa begins. “The houses are the color of bone, because the brackish breath of the sea has eaten away the pigments” She spares a moment to recollect. “they are perched on hills that overlook this inclement, temperamental sea, which sometimes claims houses and people and livestock for the deep”

“Is there any trading area?” Clarke asks, trying to picture the city in as much detail as she can given Lexa’s  austere descriptions.

“Yes, there are spicy markets running along the widest streets and squares, brimming with people and fish and vegetables and spices” Lexa explains. “They sound almost like battle, and you can hear them from the distance, people shouting and bargaining, selling and buying”

“There entire city smells like the sea, and people and spice” She adds. “But as you go up, further into the hill, the houses, still perched on the hills, become a more generous; their owners have been able to better reconstruct the old structures, have claimed the best tin and fabric and driftwood. At the very top of the hill, overlooking the entire city, and its walls surrounding it, and the sea below, is the Capitol”

“What is the Capitol?” Clarke asks. The meat is sizzling in the fire already. It smells like chicken, rich and nourishing. It also smells like something else, something disquieting in the air. Clarke decides to ignore it.

“It is the place where warriors and war chiefs live” Lexa states simply.  
They eat in silence.  
“The Polis is the place where you will see what my people are like” Lexa volunteers after a while. “You think we are only warriors and hunters” She says. “But we are much more”. She has Clarke’s attention. Maybe there are more sides to them than she had imagined.

“We are also musicians and artisans. Blacksmiths and silversmiths. And we have our traditions, too. Not everything is war” She says. “Every night when the full moon is high up in the sky, we gather by the seashore. The bonfires light our faces and warm our bodies, and the drums set the beat to our feet. Bread and honey and water flow and fill our bellies. Sweat runs down our legs, encompassed with the beating drums. The sand dances with us, dances in the air around us, and clings to our clothes and skin.”  
Clarke’s grip on reality loosens, clinging only to Lexa’s words, letting Lexa draw pictures with her voice, visualizing the vivid dreams of a land she has never seen. Clarke sees Grounders offer themselves to the night and to the beat of the drums.  
“This is how we commune with nature” Lexa explains.

Grounders eating and drinking and celebrating. Grounders focused on living instead of warring. Clarke sees Grounders feeding the fire, their faces glinting red. Lexa dancing around the fire, feet raising sand and mist, thundering against the ground. Lexa’s limbs swaying and shifting and twisting and turning to the beat of the drum. Clarke sees the waves, even though she has seen no waves, curling out of Lexa’s lips and crashing against her face. Salty waves, waves that nibble at your skin, waves that itch. The waves that carry the young Grounders, swirling and rolling in the sea. The same waves that collide against the sand by Lexa’s feet, stroking them briefly before receding back into the abyss of the ocean. The same waves that lick her skin as she dives into the water and, ever briefly, lets the sea engulf her. The same waves that lick away the confines of faraway lands, in the corners of the world.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“We should sleep” Lexa regrets to have to snap Clarke back into reality. But it is necessary. Clarke curls into the crook of her neck, her eyes still reflecting the endless seas Lexa has been sketching in her mind. 

“I hope I get to see that…” Clarke says wistfully.  
“You will” Lexa assures, kissing her forehead. “…soon” She adds. “we are no more than a sunrise away from the Polis.”

She watches for Clarke until her mind slips into the realms of the unconscious, her sleep probably populated by not-so-distant seas and bonfires and spices and markets. Before long, Lexa also drifts into slumber, her mind wavering like the sea, shifting between wakefulness and sleep, between noisy, rich markets and cold, vigilant woods.

An uneasiness crawling through her spine stirs her suddenly from sleep. She feels the ground trembling softly beneath them. She hears into the ground, and what echoes are stomping feet. She sits up, listening into the air, using all of her senses to grasp the world around her. She hears animals running, although she sees little, smells what they lift in their run. _Dust._  
She touches the ground, gropes around the wind, trying to catch what it brings. _Ash._  
She sees the wind shifting, carrying a smell not at all unfamiliar for her. _Blood._  


	12. Chapter 10 - Trikova en jus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa finally arrive to the Polis......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit shorter than other chapters, hope you enjoy anyway! :D I put a lot of emotion into the chapter, hope it reaches you at least a bit.

**_Edited on 28 th, April _ **

Chapter 10 – Trikova en jus

The smell of cinder scalds her throat as she breathes. It burns in her lungs, makes her every breath painful. The smoke stings in her eyes, but she cannot force them shut. She just keeps staring. Still, lifeless devastation everywhere. Silent desolation.

As Lexa walks into the Polis, another scent creeps up her nose and pierces her lungs. Death. Beneath the ash and the smoke and the smoldering ruins lies the undeniable, sordid scent of the realms of Death.

Spineless, merciless Death has taken over the Polis. Beneath the crumbling buildings, the dead are _not_ gone. They lie and they rot and they reek. The sweet and sour scent of decomposing flesh smells like Betrayal. The feathers she sees when she retrieves an arrow from unnamed remains only confirms it. As she walks further, silent, blinding rage curls up in her blood. It boils tempestuously, seething in her veins hardly able to contain it. As it pumps in her heard and flows breathlessly through her body, rage spreads like a virus, lodging itself in every muscle, bone and organ, clinging to every single cell. And Lexa _allows_ it.

The smoldering buildings, lodgings and market stalls tell the story of what happened with sewn up lips. They hardly stood battle against the Ice Nation’s roaring floes. Judging by the stench, the fight has taken place about two dawns ago. She had known it, deep in her gut. But her brain had refused to hear it. She could have stopped it. The Commander of Grounders clenches her teeth in the city ruins. As she walks past still, lifeless trees, warriors and horses, she can’t avoid the dead stare of familiar faces. People who had guided her, taught her, welded her to be who she is today. She sees the numb, opaque stare of those who had placed their trust and their lives upon her. The listless, cold expression in the stiff lips that used to curve into unrestrained, eager smiles in the children who looked up to her. She sees the rigid, condemning brow of the warriors who had pledged their lives to her, and had perished guarding the city she had sworn to protect. She can hear the coarse screech of tree bark being torn, the agonizing pain of nature being ripped apart, torn, raped. Nature that she was supposed to watch over.

She shifts her gaze away from those blind stares and makes her way through the rubble and into the beach. Rubble that had been her home during many seasons. Rubble that had silently stood watch over the process through which she had been molded to be a warrior, that had bore witness to her shaping as a leader. Havoc broken loose into the training grounds which had seen her indefatigably practice for countless moons. Mayhem torn out of the halls which had silently towered over her in her relentless quest for applicable knowledge. Roofs shattered which had sheltered her during nights of thunder unaccountable for.  
Now, it is she who silently stands over the ruins of the city which had once witnessed her weld into who she is today.

As she approaches the beach, the red-stained stand smells of blood, a stench that gets mixed with the iron sea. Sunken ships and dead bodies surmise through the infinite waves. Lexa can hear the clamor of battle in the relentless waves. The cries of her people in the dry, frozen howl of the wind. She can feel the thick, old blood in the sand, the viscous, cold entrails smeared across the shore. Death lingers in the wind which seethes its way into her scalding lungs, in the deafening roar of the water which drowns her thoughts until nothing coherent can come to shape in her mind other than one concrete thought.

Yes, Death has claimed domain over her city, over her people. She must claim them back. Death has torn and scavenged. She must redeem and restore.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lexa sits down on the sand, completely isolated inside her mind, and stress into the horizon. But she is not alone. Silently, Clarke sits beside her, her arm brushing her own. She possesses no comfort to give, so her presence is all she can offer. She knows it will not suffice, but for now, it will have to do. She cannot offer retribution, but perhaps she can lend her mind to find justice.

The smell of ashes and blood is sickening, yet she stays there, looking into the sea by Lexa’s side. Something disquieting stirs in her heart. She feels an indefinable rage that encompasses everything. _Rage that is not quite hers_. And mixed in with her own confusing tangle of strained emotions, pulsing through her nerves, throat-gripping angst. _Which is not her own_. But barely has she had time to acknowledge those emotions by naming them, barely has she given them any power, when they dissolve into the maelstrom of her own disarrayed, bedraggled feelings.

Her own feelings, even in such state of dishevelment, are of a different sort. Self-righteous feelings which are dismayed at the mere injustice of it all. Dispirited, deflated feelings which rapidly lose hope for humanity. Sympathetic feelings which churn in compass with the Polis massacre. Protective, zealous feelings which want to shield Lexa from the pain of an irredeemable atrocity. But Lexa’s presence stirs yet other kind of feelings inside of her. Acrid feelings which ache in undealt with accusations. Embittered feelings which surge in the wake of unspoken of betrayal. Tepid feelings. Poisonous feelings. Raucous feelings. Hoarse feelings. Coarse feelings. Feelings of unutterable woe. Feelings that warp the mind. Feelings that stun the mind. Feelings that wring the heart. Feelings that bleed the heart. Oscillating feelings. Shifting feelings. Unlikely feelings. Impossible feelings.  Feelings that can’t be explained. Transfixing feelings. Metamorphic feelings. Feelings that freeze the heart. Feelings that weld. Feelings in flames. Feelings that scald the flesh. Feelings in ruins. Shattered feelings. Empowering feelings. All-encompassing feelings. Feelings that sift. Feelings that liquefy. Feelings that solidify. Feelings that crystallize.

“What now?” Clarke asks, staring intently at the Commander, trying to dig past her skull and into her mind, shirking from her overwhelming emotions and focusing on the outline of the Grounder’s minutely chiseled, well-polished profile.  
“Now, we fight” Lexa replies.


	13. Chapter 11 - Tua kru geda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys read and find out ;)

**New chapter, people! And the edited version of chapter 10 is coming soon, too! I’ve already written it, just have to type it in. Sorry I took so long! ^ ^  
Hope you guys enjoy it! Comments, ideas and any sort of encouragement welcome :D**

 

Clarke stands by as the messenger hawks set off and scatter into the forest deep. The Commander of Grounders has spared time for nothing, hardly a breath exhaled before swiftly scribbling sharp-edged missives to each of the 12 clans. Clarke has seen her feet shuffle relentlessly as she’s scraped together the paper needed for the brisk communication.

The Commander’s face is stern, not a shimmer of emotion to be glimpsed in her green eyes. But Clarke knows better.   
“Lexa…” She calls, approaching the Grounder who’s pinned to her spot, contemplating the hawks as they fly away, and probably not seeing them at all.   
“There is no one around” Clarke says, fingers gently tingling along Lexa’s still hand. “You don’t need to be strong” She says.

“You know nothing, Clarke.” Lexa replies, jaw clenched. “If anything, strong is precisely what I must be.” She explains, brimming with tension that Clarke can intuit in every fiber of the Commander’s body. She fear that, should she step any closer, some wire will snap within Lexa and electrocute her, just as it happened back in the Ark. _I’m not in the Ark anymore._   
“Well then, let me help” She says, stepping closer and holding Lexa from behind. Holding her in fear of her disintegrating, exploding into sheer energy. She fears she is the only one keeping her parts together.

Lexa doesn’t flinch. She doesn ot shirk from the contact, but does not welcome it, either.   
“You are in no position to help me, Clarke” Lexa replies, her limbs stiff. “You have nothing that can be of use”

Clarke flinches at the blunt sharpness of the comment. She swallows before going on. “You underestimate me, Lexa” She says. “Do not forget that the Sky people follow me, and we have technology which you lack.” She explains. “Even more so after MountWeather” She adds, a hint of bitterness souring her lips.   
“Why would the Sky people help?” Lexa asks. “After MountWeather, they have no reason whatsoever to do so.”  
“Do not presume to know my people, Lexa” Clarke warns, Lexa’s sternness somehow rubbed on and passed on to her. “Unlike you, we do not always make decisions based on cold reason alone. Plus, if I show them there is something to be gained from it, or to be avoided from it, they will come”

“Your people are loyal” Lexa observes, relaxing almost imperceptively into Clarke’s strong arms.   
“They trust me”  
“They have _faith_ in you”Lexa corrects.  
Clarke nods.  
“And I have faith in them” She says. “I trust their hearts to be in the right place, and right now, that place is helping me.”  
Lexa turns around swiftly, her lashes inches away from Clarke’s face, almost brushing it. Her penetrating stare is irresistible.

“I’ve sent all the hawks, though, so even if they were willing to help, it would be too late by the time they received the messages.” Lexa says, staring into Clarke’s eyes a moment longer before lowering her gaze.   
“I have other means of contacting them” Clark says, a small grin playing on her lips. “Come” She grabs Lexa’s hand and leads her back to the improvised camp they’ve set in the ruins of a hut.

“What’s this?” Lexa asks, a confounded look in her face, kneeling to grab what Clarke is showing her.  
“These… are radios” Clarke explains. “They are used to communicate instantly with people who are far away; I can talk to Raven with them”   
Lexa’s face shows little sign of understanding, indeed little sign of interest at all. But she clearly understands they are instrumental to her plan.  
“Go ahead and contact them, then”   
Clarke shudders at the idea of having to explain herself to her people in front of the Grounder.  
“Do… do you mind waiting outside?”   
Lexa nods gravely, shuffles to her feet and abandons the hut.

It has been a long time since Clarke last spoke to anyone from her camp. In fact, she hasn’t talked to any of them since she said farewell to Bellamy. She figures he will be the right person to talk to. Without giving herself much time to ponder things and let indecisiveness sneak up on her, she fumbles with the radio until she can contact Camp Jaha. As expected, it is Raven who appears on the other side of the wavelength.   
“Raven”   
“Clarke? Is that you”? Asks an astounded Raven.  
“It’s me”  
“What happened? Where are you?” She asks.  
“I’m fine, I just needed some time for myself to, you know, figure some stuff out” Clarke answers evasively. She doesn’t feel like explaining herself to Raven right now. “Listen, there’s no time now. I need your help. Put Bellamy on the radio.”   
“Ok, sure” Raven replies, hopefully understanding that now is not the time for introspective talks.   
  
“Princess”  Bellamy says after a short while.  
“Bellamy!” Clarke is surprised at how unexpectedly happy she is to hear his reassuring voice. “What’s going on? Where are you?”  
“I’m in the Polis” Clarke replies. “with Lexa” She feels compelled to add. Bellamy says nothing for eternal seconds.  
“Hmm, I see…” Clarke wonders how much he really does see, how much he can possibly understand. But with some hope, there will be time to discuss things. “And what’s the problem?”  
“It has been attacked” Clarke responds. “The Ice Nation has rebelled against the Coalition, and now they’re trying to claim domain over all the land beyond the ice” She explains.  
“And we should care because…?” Bellamy asks. “Clarke, this people betrayed us. Are you even thinking of suggesting we help them?”   
“You’re right. But we should care anyway” Clarke says, triyng to be as concise as possible, given the little time they have to get moving.   
“They appear to be strong, they’ve left this huge city in smolders, ashes and ruin” She explains.  
“The Grounders are at the front line, the only thing keeping us and them apart. Should the Grounders fall, we would be next”   
“I see…” Bellamy reflects. “You’ve got a point, there, Princess” He adds.  
“What do you need, then?”   
“I need you to come. Talk around the camp and round up as many of us as you can, and come here as soon as you can, there’s not much time… if they have already attacked their main city, it’s impossible to know which smaller settlement will be next. We need to make the next move.”  
“We?”  
“The Grounders and us, I mean.”   
“The Grounders and us, or Lexa and you?” Bellamy asks. Clarke rolls her eyes, even though he cannot see her.  
“There’s no time for this, Bell, we can talk once you get here”  
“Fine, I’ll see what I can do.” He says, dropping the subject quickly enough.  
“Great. We will wait here until the day after tomorrow, so make it quick. Lincoln will how know to guide you here.”  
“Got it”   
With that, the communication was over. Clarke smiles to herself, having proved to herself that her people are indeed worthy or her trust and her faith.   
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  


The cold, morning air chills the world around them as they stand atop a hill, waiting. The weak sun can’t provide enough heat to melt the frost that formed over the ground overnight. Lexa can see Clarke’s breath become thin, chilly fog as she exhales.  
“Morning” She says. Lexa limits her communication to a mere nod. She feels the air brimming with anticipation, dense with the morning mist and the fog of imminent war.  They stand quietly, united in the silence, connected by it and its implications.

They are still standing, waiting, when figures slowly start to loom in the distance. Figures coming out of the woods, clad in makeshift armors, painted for war. Figures docking by the beach, leaving vessels and boats. People looming out of the shadows of the East, faceless in their heavy, all-encompassing garments which reach the floor and cover their heads. They are many. And once the Sky people arrive, they will be more.

Once they are gathered at the foot of the hill, the Commander speaks. She must make sure her words are precise, and empowering and concrete.  
“The Ice Nation has declared war to us!” She begins. “They have left out city in dust, ashes and ruins. They have burnt our houses, slaughtered our people. They have broken the coalition. They deserve no mercy. They deserve to be slaughtered and burnt. Blood must have blood.”

The Grounders roar.

Lexa’s eyes wonder through the gathering crowd, focusing on fierceless face after fierceless face. Her gaze hovers over the Grounders, encompassing her people with fiery eyes. She feels her chest swelling with pride; those are _her_ warriors, countless of whom she has trained personally. She senses her pulse quickening, and allows it, blood pulsing through her veins ever so rapidly, in sheer, coiled exhilaration. The mere anticipation of the imminent, intimate closeness to death only makes her senses more cute, the sheer thrill of war transfixing her.

Her demeanor does nothing but reveal this, as she allows those emotions to be seen by her people, as she sets herself as their example to follow. Fearlessness emanates from her being, she feels its radiating heat, feels it spread among the crow, connecting her to every single one of them. She feels herself amalgamate with her people until they are no longer individuals, but part of the same pulsing, breathing, living creature.

She will lead them to war.

She will lead them to death.

Her people know this.

And they will _follow_.


	14. Chapter 12 - Osir en em (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grounders are ready for war. Will the Sky people be ready too?

**Longer chapter you guys! I got a little carried away, I hope you like it ! Let me know what you think : ) (promise I’ll edit later, and 100-lore corrections are always specially welcome). Oh, and when I reach the modest number of 25 reviews (I don’t ask for much, eh?) I will write a one-shot based on any prompt you guys suggest :D**

CHAPTER 12 – Osir en em

They approach slowly, one by one. They are not many, but their numbers will have to suffice. They emerge from the woods as if pulled by some greater force, something bigger than themselves, stronger than their own individual will. They loom out of the forest, blending in with the dim light of dusk. The exhausted, worn out 47 gather around Clarke. Quietly, for once. Their faces and clothes are covered with dust, smeared with dirt. It has been a long tread. Clarke’s eyes smile at the familiar faces, pausing for a brief moment on each one. The time has come for her to accept her fate. The time has come for her to _lead_. And to do so she must be hard, yet ductile. She must be energy and heat. And she must be logic and ice. And she is ready now.

“We’re here, princess” Bellamy says. He stands tall among the others, at the front, ever close to her.   
But the 47 are not alone. More people approach from the forest shadows. Older people are coming, too. Ark people. Clarke waits for everyone before beginning to speak. But she is not given the chance.

“What’s the meaning of this, Clarke?” A familiar, reproachful voice looms over the quiet murmur that has spread.   
“Mom” Clarke addresses the speaker, calm and collected. “I’m glad you came.”

Abby strides the few remaining meters separating her from her daughter, until she is inches away from her. She grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her.  
“What’s going on? You leave without saying a word… I need to wait until Bellamy explains to me that you’ve left, God knows where… mumbling a sorry excuse of you needing time for yourself, when all you need is precisely the opposite, time with the people you love! Don’t look at me that way, because I’m not stopping until I’ve had my say…”

 Clarke remains impassive, looking coldly at her mother, and then softly removes Abby’s hands off her shoulders.  
“Are you done?” Is all she asks. Lexa watches from the distance, but knowing she is indeed there gives Clarke strength.  
“Of course I’m not done!” Abby shouts, exasperated. “And what’s this now? You call asking us to help this filth? To aid this people who have _betrayed_ us, who nearly cost the lives of _our_ people back in MountWeather? This Grounder _girl_ who didn’t think twice before offering us to the Mountain men? Who do you think you are to ask for such thing?”

“I am your leader” Clarke states flatly, simply, holding back the surge of black, thick bile that threatens to burst out of her mouth when hearing her mother’s insults.    
“Well, not _my_ leader for sure… you are a _child_ , Clarke, don’t you forget that, and I am your _mother_!” Abby spits, all flared up.   
“Are you sure about that, _mom_?” Clarke replies, speaking slowly. “For I don’t recall asking you to come specifically, and yet, here you are”

The Sky people fall silent.  
“What do you say?” Clarke asks, addressing all of them, speaking in a loud, determined voice. “You seem to have put me in this place since before I had even considered it” She says. People around her nod, acknowledging what they had, perhaps subconsciously, done.   
“Will you have me lead you now?” She asks proudly. “Will you follow me, knowing that what I want, what I have _always_ wanted, is what is best for us? Knowing that my major concern is, and will always be, our survival here? Our getting to have an actual _life_ here?”

The Sky people cheer. For the first time, Clarke feels complete confidence in her power. In her ability to lead her people with justice and honor.   
“We got your back, princess” Bellamy says, smiling broadly.   
“Well, you got us out of the Mountain, didn’t you?” Monty shrugs, lips curving into a small but reassuring smile.   
“You’ve always been our leader, Clarke, whether we were ready to admit it or not” Says Jasper, probably remembering how he did not give her credit back in MountWeather, and lived to regret it. Clarke cannot help but feel her chest swell with pride. These are _her_ people, choosing _her_  to guide them.

“I guess you’ve been leading them since the moment you got here, probably before you even realized you were doing it, kid” Says Kane. Clarke can feel her eyes flicker. _Is Kane actually saying this?_ But she rapidly, imperceptively falls back into her stern, confident position. Shoulders square, back straight.

“And, I must admit, you seem to have been doing a better job than we have” Kane goes on. “You know the ground better than we do, you certainly seem to understand the Grounders better,” He glances at Lexa, then goes on. “…and you seem to understand the rules of the ground, of Earth, better than we do…So it would only be fair to give you chance, eh?” She smirks, perhaps laughing inside at the idea of Clarke, a mere girl of 17, being a better leader than the Council itself. 

“You too, Kane?” Abby asks, outraged. “This is unbelievable, I-“   
Bellamy steps in, interrupting her.   
“I think the majority has already decided who they want our leader to be, Dr. Griffin” He states, respectfully yet coldly.  
“The boy has a point, Abby” Kane follows. Evidently realizing she has been defeated, Abby walks away from the bewildered crowd, sparing Clarke one disappointed glare before leaving.   
“I’ll talk to her” Kane murmurs to her, before walking away, too.

Once the agent of tension is gone, the Sky people turn to Clarke, expectant. She sighs soundlessly, then inhales to get the strength she will need to go on speaking.  
“What now, Clarke?” Asks Monty, arms folded across his chest. “Why are we here?”

“The Ice Nation has broken their allegiance with the rest of the Coalition” Lexa jumps in, her hand leaning on Clarke’s shoulder for a second. “They have attacked the Polis, the very base of our entire culture; and they won’t stop there. In the Ground, that means war” She offers as evidence of the betrayal. Clarke glances at Lexa, who looks back at her reassuringly.  
“That means that, unless Coalition to defeats them, the Ice Nation is going to take over. Over everything” Clarke says. “They can take over our own camps, take over the ground we are just barely getting acquainted with.”

She stands straight. The Sky people are still. She has their attention.  
“The Grounders that have once betrayed us need our help now, that is true” She says, acknowledging what her mother had said before. “But what is also a fact is that, unless we help them, the Ice Nation will crush us along the way” She explains.

“But how can we trust them now? We can’t ignore the fact that they’ve done what they did!” Bellamy speaks up, likely expressing what is in everybody’s mind.

“We were only allies before in the face of the threat of MountWeather” Now, it is Lexa who addresses the Sky people. “It is undeniable that we did not honor that. We could not afford to” Lexa explains succinctly. And unsatisfactorily, for her knowledge of the Sky people is limited, and she knows not how to quench their thirst for explanations. But Clarke does.

“And it is the same I would have done, given the circumstances” Clarke lies. “If I had been forced to choose between the Grounders and our people, I would have chosen our people” She says.

“But we were going to win!” Shouts Jasper, who clearly still mourns for Maya.  
“We don’t know that Jasper” Clarke says, her limbs stiffening with the tension that can almost be seen in the air. “And we never will, so there’s no point in dwelling on that now” She adds, perhaps too harshly. But she is also aware of the harshness of the place they live on, now.

“The point now is that, unless we do something to help stop them, the Ice Nation will either kill us off, or chase us out of these lands” She says. “And we have a better chance of fending them off if we fight together with the Grounders”  
“Well, I guess that makes sense…” Says Bellamy, hesitant.

“I do not expect to gain your trust” Lexa says. “I only expect you to trust your leader” She adds.   
Clarke can see the Grounders approaching when hearing their Commander’s far-reaching voice.   
“But if it will be of help, I offer you, Clarke of the Sky people, a position in the Coalition” She announces. The Grounders listen. The Sky people listen, too.

“So if you will have it, from now on, the Sky people are part of us” She says, her voice meandering into the ears of cloudling and earthling alike. “You can partake of our councils and gatherings, and your people shall be treated as Skaikru, on the same level as Trigedakru or Floudonkru. If anyone from my kru has something to say, speak now!” She states, challenging.   
Clarke can see in the Grounders’ eyes that not all of them agree with their leader, but they defy not.

“Any objections?” Clarke asks her people.   
Silence.   
“If that is the case, then by dawn, two days from now, it is war” Clarke says, feeling her voice carry well into the woods. “Two days from now, the Ice Nation will learn _fear_ ” She says. “They will learn what the Sky people are made of”   
Her people cheer.   
“And tonight, let there be fire and drums and dance, let us honor this new coalition!” The Commander of Grounders announces.   
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Everyone, Skaikru and Trigedakru alike, runs towards the shore. Speedily and with trained expertise, the Grounders gather wood and make an enormous bonfire by the sea. Their earth spirits awoken, the Sky people help light the fire. The Sky people cheer, and dance, and join in the communion with nature. Lexa secretly rejoices. The feast might bring their people closer.  
  
The realization of the risk she is taking weighs heavily on Lexa. She can easily avert her thoughts from the dim, cold probability of her own death, but somehow she cannot shut her mind to the possibility of _her_ dying. She cannot face that possibility again. The mere glimmer of likelihood sends shivers down her spine and compresses her lungs. She strives to inhale, but the tight knot in her throat prevents the air to reach her lungs.   
A sudden gasp brings in the needed oxygen as she feels Clarke’s hand grabbing hers and leading her towards the bonfire.   
“Come” Is all she says, walking determinedly towards the shore.

Drums reverberate in her ears, stunning her, clouding her senses, mixing in with the thrill of imminent battle.  The faint scent of burning wood flares in her nostrils. The drums ring to the beat of their hearts, and their hearts beat as one as they dance and they revel. All of them.

The drums beat. And the ringing in her ears is the same that deafens _her_ ears. The fire burns. And the flames that play with the shadow of night on the sand is the same that plays in _her_ sky-blue eyes. Those stormy, powerful blue eyes, which are now tainted red from the flame’s light. And tainted red from the fire within. Lexa cannot avert her eyes from such blazing fire. The drums beat in her ears. They beat as they watch the cloudling dance and move to that earthborn pulse. Before her mind is spared any time to gauge the circumstances, to measure or calculate her next move, Lexa finds herself compelled to join her in her dance back to her roots. As they move, oblivious to the people around them, they see the same fire in each other’s eyes. The same earthly impulse. The same realization that they might not live another day and the same determination to let those flames consume them before death can get a grip on their souls.

The fire burns within them. And as they dance, they feel such igneous heat erupt in their souls. They feel their melding souls, welding, alloying until they are one. And in the process, Lexa feels herself getting caught in the fiery storm within Clarke’s eyes. Feels Clarke determined, urgent body pressing against hers. Feels her confident hand on the small of her neck, pulling her into a molten kiss. For the first time in her life, in the lives of her soul, Lexa feels herself being engulfed so by the cataclysmal turmoil and the tempestuous heat of another human being’s ardent passion. A passion radiating from no other than the girl who fell from the sky. She feels such blazing heat in the way Clarke kisses her, her mouth devouring Lexa’s, her tongue relishing in such fiery contact. She feels it in the powerful grip Clarke has on her waist, and in the commanding way in which she pushes her against the base of the tall eroded cliffs that climb up above them. Barely aware of the agitation in her breathing, Lexa kisses Clarke back, hunger and lust taking over her. But Clarke’s blazing storm has been unleashed and, drowned by the drumming noise in their ears, Lexa is oblivious to her own sounds, to the deep, heavy, coarse sounds that escape her throat as Clarke’s ravenous greed kiss and bite her neck.

Lexa is unaware of the moment when it happens, but she finds herself being dragged to the dry sand. Finds groping, eager hands exploring her body, aching for contact. Finds dissatisfied, hungry lips licking and sucking, find a voracious mouth devouring her. Feasting on her own hungry lips and her tingling skin and her limitless soul. Lexa sees the sky girl’s fiery eyes, combusting with passion and _love_. Hears the sky girl’s agitated breathing as her pulsing fingers find their way inside of her. Lexa sees the storm in her eyes as she touches her.

“Take me…” She finds herself saying as deep moans take over her throat and escape her mouth. She feels Clarke’s lips curve into a smile against her chest. And for the first time in many lives, Lexa allows herself to be taken. Lets someone make her hers, claim her body and her soul. For the first time in many lives, Lexa allows herself to give in and melt and weld and amalgamate with someone else.  With the girl who fell from the sky.   



	15. Chapter 12 - Osir en em (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigeda kru and Skai kru march against the Ice Nation.

_I’m so sorry it has been this long, guys! I had tons of uni stuff to catch up with and I was so caught up with everything I had to do and study that there was not much room left for writing, but I can finally devote some time and some thought to the story again!_

Clarke wakes up in the cold hour before dawn. A familiar scent, wild and rich, invades her. Lexa’s hair.  She looks down to find the Grounder’s lush mane spreading across her own shoulder. She feels Lexa’s warm, soft breathing over her chest.  The world utterly forgotten, Lexa slumbers in blissful oblivion, her naked body completely relaxed in Clarke’s arms. She huddles the sleeping earthling closer, amazed by her unexpected fragility.  Yet she knows that the moment she wakes, such fragility will be heavily guarded, stoutly shielded behind Lexa’s stone-cold armour. And today of all days, it will have to be.

 For this is the day they will finally march against the Ice Nation.  Disquieted by the sudden recognition of the immense risk lying ahead of them, Clarke is unable to find peace any longer. Restless, and too painfully, too fully aware of everything that might go wrong, she embraces Lexa tightly.

It is in such tight embrace that Lexa wakes up. Her lashes flutter quickly, like a blackbird just about to take flight. Her gaze wanders vaguely before resting on Clarke’s eyes. She opens her mouth, her lips parting deliciously, but says nothing. As usual, Lexa seems to deem words unnecessary. Or perhaps inadequate. Clarke forces lips into a smile and Lexa, still resting her head on Clarke’ chest, smiles back. Until she notices the shade of worry in Clarke’s eyes. She grows serious and leans on her elbow, her  eyes irresistibly close to Clarke’s.

“What is it?” She finally asks. But she knows already. She has to know. For she looks intently into Clarke’s eyes and nods with determination.  
“This is the day” She says.   
  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The air is chilling. The wind lashes at their faces with its icy tongue. The frost sinks its teeth into their skin. Yet they march relentlessly. The frozen desolation of the landscape sinks into their hearts, but their determined feet refuse to stop their march across the land, sinking into the snow as they go, for there is still passion in their hearts. And thirst for retribution in their throats. They must go on.

The march is painfully slow, yet it is also steady. Lexa the Commander leads the way, and even though she now is the Commander and not the girl, she can’t fight back the memories coming to surface in her head.  The last time she marched this way was to retrieve Costia’s stone-cold body. She can still remember the churning pain she felt as Grief gripped her heart. She still remembers how she feared it would crush it. Every heartbeat had seemed to imply too much effort back then. And Grief had been unforgiving in its grip. A grip that had been strong enough for her to find it hard to breathe, yet not strong enough to kill her. Because Grief was meticulous, and calculating. Grief was precise, and it knew exactly how much agony it could squeeze out from her before her heart refused to beat any longer. The mere memory of meticulous Grief gripping her heart is enough to send shivers down her spine and blur her eyesight. But she knows she must be strong. She has to.

Struggling to keep her emotions at bay, she focuses her eyes on the way ahead, too aware of the people walking behind her, entrusting their lives to her. Ahead of her, frozen forests. Hopefully, the snow-covered trees will provide at least partial protection against the wind that freezes their bones.  She notices a stealthy eagle flying over the forest, watching.  She looks back at Indra, who nods and brings it down in one quick movement.

As they step into the woods, the wind grows calmer, slightly more bearable. It howls in the branches, yet it is unable to bite them. The layer of snow is thicker. It slows them down,  as if it was trying to pull them down to prevent them from moving forward. Yet on they go. Walking. Marching.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 100 fanfic, so comments and suggestions are welcome! Also, if anyone following would like something in particular to happen, more of something (or less of something), feel free to PM me ;)
> 
> As I'm not a native speaker, any spelling or grammar mistakes will be corrected if anyone just points them out :)


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